


the sun shines in gotham.

by thychesters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen, The Boyfriend Talking to the Dad, and they’re gonna get —, it’s not looking for a blessing it’s more ‘hey this is happening’, someone’s gonna go to the chapel (or outdoor venue)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thychesters/pseuds/thychesters
Summary: Dick has a question for Jim; Jim has a few of his own, but he can’t say he’s surprised.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson (mentioned), Dick Grayson & Jim Gordon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101





	the sun shines in gotham.

**Author's Note:**

> if anything, this can be considered/world-building when it comes to me establishing my own canon in this given universe i’m working on. time wise this takes places just prior to the the last prompt/[day seven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981993/chapters/55164985) in my fic [reverb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981993) with this year’s dickbabsweek prompts! this ties into another fic currently in the works. and it was fun to try out someone else’s voice for a change; here’s to jim. and to pen, as always, for looking this over.

When Dick calls Jim, he’s more than a little leery. It isn’t that he has a problem with the kid—far from it, actually, seeing as his daughter’s made it pretty clear she cares for him (despite his earlier reservations). Even so, seeing Dick Grayson’s name pop up on his caller ID is cause for alarm, he thinks, considering they don’t exactly have nightly chats and they really only have one another’s numbers for emergencies and to debate holiday gifts for Barbara.

The fact Dick calls him at 9:17 on a Tuesday doesn’t help matters either, since Jim Gordon is a firm believer in the notion that any phone calls in Gotham after dusk aren’t good omens.

“Hello Jim,” Dick says in that curt way apparently all Waynes do. Sarah passes him a glance from where she’s working on her crossword in the armchair.

“Richard,” he says in kind, doing his utmost not to filter through every worst case scenario that comes to mind. “Is everything all right?”

There’s a pause, and Dick clears his throat on the other end of the line. “I, yeah, everything’s good. Sorry it’s a little late; I was hoping to see if there was any chance you were free tomorrow?”

“I could be,” Jim says, vague as can be as he sits back on the couch. Vicki Vale murmurs back to them from where Sarah’s turned down the volume on the TV, and she gives him a look. Jim sighs. “How about the coffee shop around the corner from the precinct? Why don’t you shoot me a time and I’ll see if I can meet you there.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s perfect, actually,” Dick says, and there are a hint of nerves to his tone Jim can’t quite place. He has his own guesses as to why, but he’ll at least give him the chance to explain himself. “How’s eight work for you?”

“That sounds fine to me.” He drums his fingers on his knee. “Listen, kid, take a deep breath and get some sleep, would you? You and I will talk in the morning, and give Barb my love.”

“You got it,” Dick says with an exhale, and it sounds like he’s letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Jim can imagine him, though, staring out a window without seeing anything, shoulders tense and demeanor off. He’s spent enough time around the family, both through public events and their night jobs to tell, he thinks. “Thank you, Jim.”

“What was that all about?” Sarah asks with a raised eyebrow as he hangs up the phone. He squints at the screen for a moment, humming.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he says, setting his phone on the arm of the couch. He smiles just a little. “But I think I might have an idea.”

\-- --

Dick’s already waiting for him when he gets there, and judging from the way he’s sitting he looks like he’s been there for a while. Jim waves him off when he moves to stand to greet him and he has to adjust his coat as he joins him.

“Morning, Commissioner,” Dick says when he sits. Jim offers a gruff _mornin_ ’ to him, and then a nod as he and Barbara’s usual waitress gestures to him with the coffee pot in her hand. Jim’s been bringing Barbara here since she learned to walk. Her favorite table to sit at was the one in the corner where she could people watch, hot chocolate in one hand and powdered sugar from a donut her mother would have said was too much sugar across her chin.

“You been here a while?” he asks as a greeting, and Dick’s gaze cuts away with a shrug.

“Not that long,” he says, picking up his mug. When he does, Jim notices the coffee rings left behind on the table top. Judging from that and the way he seems antsy for a way to keep his hands occupied, Jim would wager he’s on his second if not third cup. He looks back to Jim. “How’s Sarah?”

“Good,” he says, though that gives Dick little to work with. He watches his face pinch a little before Heidi sets his mug down and shakes his head when she asks if he wants anything to go with it. She glances between the two of them and then back to Jim, head cocked just so in Dick’s direction, but he’s fixed his gaze on the chipped dish of creamers, so he doesn’t say anything. Jim waits until Heidi’s moved onto her next table to ask: “Should I have brought her with me?”

Dick looks back up at him again, passing his now half-full mug back and forth between his hands. “No, I don’t think so. Not that I would have minded having her here, of course, and I’d like to talk to her too somewhere down the road, but… I think this is a conversation I need to have with you alone first.”

“Hmm,” Jim hums into the lip of his mug, his only sign for Dick to continue. “Judging from the nerves, if you’re about to tell me you plan on breaking my daughter’s heart, it’s in your best interest to remember I still know a couple cops who don’t mind getting their hands dirty. Even Batman won’t find you.”

Dick blinks back at him.

“That was a joke, son.”

“Huh. Right,” he gets out, though the brief smile he offers falters and his laugh is more of a huff. Jim’s eyes narrow a bit.

For the most part he’s only ever seen the kid calm and collected, the picture of grace under pressure; now looks at Jim like he’s expecting to get raked across the coals if he says the wrong thing. So Jim gives him a moment, lets him collect himself, drum his fingers on the lip of the table and let out a breath.

The more he watches him, the more he thinks of the kid he used to know. He thinks of the kid he met on the fairgrounds, a brief passing that culminated into study dates and books being passed back and forth, and suddenly he’s showing up at his doorstep to take Barbara to her high school prom, and ten years after that they’re moving in together. He’d like to think he knows the kid well enough, but even after almost two decades he’s still learning about the guy who has such a presence in his daughter’s life.

Dick straightens and meets his eye. Jim sets down his mug.

“I’m going to ask Barbara to marry me.”

He says it with such conviction, such determination, that for a moment all Jim can do is stare back at him across the table. Dick has sat up straighter, face impassive though his eyes flicker, the only tell in the otherwise impressive way he holds himself.

Jim can feel the lines forming in his brow as he raises his eyebrows and offers a “huh.”

“I know in some cases guys used to ask the father for the daughter’s hand, but, respectfully we both know that’s dated and Barbara would hate the thought of it, so I’m not asking you, sir,” Dick continues, fingers tightening around the cheap ceramic mug. “I’m telling you.” He lets out a breath, and it’s the first time he breaks eye contact to glance down at his coffee and then back. “Since you’re close though I thought I should tell you—seemed like the right thing to do.”

The corner of Jim’s mouth curls. “And I appreciate that, but, son, there’s one question and only one question I want to ask you, you hear me?”

Dick nods and Jim leans into the table, watching a shadow of doubt pass over his features, gone as quickly as it had come. It’s like he’s expecting Jim to tell him off anyway, even if that’s the last thing he plans on doing. There’s a pang of guilt that comes with the notion, because for all the grief he gave him over the years, he’s never seen his daughter happier—or Richard, for that matter.

His face cracks into a wry grin with: “What took you so long?”

There’s a pause, and then Dick breaks into a small laugh of his own, tension bleeding out of his shoulders and down to his fingertips where his hold loosens on his mug.

“Wasn’t for lack of trying, I’ll tell you that,” he mutters, to which Jim raises an eyebrow. He sits back in the booth, cheap vinyl protesting as he does.

“Should I pretend I didn’t hear that?” he asks, folding his arms for a moment and then immediately unfolding them when he decides he wants his coffee again. Dick looks sheepish at least, and sucks on his teeth. Jim decides perhaps it’s in his best interest he not know, and figures plausible deniability is the way to go, seeing as it’s gotten him this far in working with this lot.

Dick laughs a little at that, and then goes about patting his jacket down, fishing a small jewelry box out of his pocket. He holds it out to him, and Jim takes it with his own fair share of reverence because he knows just how big a deal this has to be to the kid, and the box only fights him a little as he goes to pry it open.

A small ring sits nestled in worn velvet that’s matted down at the edges, the band itself fairly simple with a single diamond in the middle, flanked by two small ones on either side that blink back at him in the sunlight and fluorescents overhead. It isn’t gaudy, isn’t flashy, and, he thinks, this will do just fine.

“Kid…” he starts, except Dick beats him to it.

“I know it isn’t a lot, and it’s kind of plain, but—it was my mom’s,” he says, and then he pulls a face before his tone hedges toward mildly defensive. “Is that weird? It might be a little weird. Babs’ birthstone is a sapphire so I was thinking of replacing the two stones on the sides with them. And I have to snag one of her rings when she isn’t looking to make sure the sizing’s right. But Babs doesn’t really wear a lot of jewelry to begin with, so I don’t want to go too wild.”

“Grayson,” Jim cuts in, and Dick clamps his mouth shut. “It’s perfect. She’s gonna love it, no matter what you do.”

After one last glance he slips the box shut and hands in back to Dick who curls his hands into a fist around it.

“I’m going to take it to a jeweler to get the stones checked out and it needs a new box, but. It’s something at least.”

“It’s better than something,” Jim says as he takes another drag of his coffee. Dick smile grows a little more. “‘Bout time, I think. When do you plan on asking her?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t quite decided yet. We still have to sign our lease and get things sorted, so that’s going to be a hassle there. I was thinking of asking her at the place we first met, but then I realized that was at the precinct and I can’t imagine how that could go over.”

“We keep it clean. I’m pretty sure the floor got mopped last night.”

Dick laughs. “I thought about asking her where we had our first date, but something about Pauli’s chili cheese fries don’t exactly scream romance.”

“Oh they scream something all right, it’s just a far cry from romantic,” Jim mutters, breaking into a grin as Dick snickers. He sets his coffee down again. “Listen, whether you ask her dressed to the nines or in your pajamas, I don’t think Barbara’s going to mind all that much—hell, she’s gonna be more focused on the fact you’re asking her in the first place. I hope you didn’t ask me here to help you come up with proposal ideas because one, that’s not my thing, and two, that’s still my daughter.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and reigning back on the theatrical emotions. “Just… do whatever you were going to do, whatever works for you. You and I both already know her answer.”

He hopes.

“And you have my blessing, whatever weight that carries and whether you were looking for it or not.”

Dick regards him with a curious look for a minute, long enough for Jim’s eyes to narrow again because it’s too similar to their rooftop meetings. The look is quickly gone, and his expression slips into more one of ease.

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” he muses.

“Yeah, well,” Jim grumbles, leaning back a little bit. “Like I said, I figured this was a long time coming. And need I remind you, you said you were telling me, not asking me.”

Dick’s grin is a slip of teeth. “Yeah, that’s true. But I figured even if the practice was archaic the sentiment was still there.”

“Archaic. You really are spending too much time around Barb.”

“I would hope so,” he says. “I’m about to ask her to hang out with me on weekends too. Maybe just spend the rest of her life with me.”

Jim laughs. “Ah, there’s the corniness she was complaining about.”

“That’s my thing,” he says, like it’s a point of pride. His grin falters a little. “She complains about me?”

“Of course,” Jim says into his coffee, watching Dick from across the table. “What else would we talk about, the weather?”

Dick squints a little, and Jim entertains himself by draining the rest of his mug. It’s a quiet, studious sort of look, the kind he’s used to being given on the GCPD rooftop.

“Starting to see where she got her sense of humor from.” Dick shakes his head and drags his own mug through the coffee rings on the table; Jim graces him with his own snicker. Heidi stops by their table again, refilling his mug. Dick hesitates before saying sure, thanks, but he’s cutting himself off after this. Heidi rolls her eyes and says he better be, or else he’s gonna jitterbug right out the door. At the look he’s given when she walks away Jim just shakes his head.

“I’m going out on a limb here and assuming you plan on sticking around Gotham on more of a full-time basis now. So I gotta ask: you plan on transferring precincts then? I can put in a word with Montoya in Major Crimes if you’re looking.” He watches the kid, considering. With his attitude and way he’s seen him throw himself into anything he does he’d be a solid fit.

“No, sir,” he says, dragging the end of his sleeve through one of the rings as he reaches for his mug. “I’m in the exciting field of job hunting. I know that’s not exactly promising to hear since I just told you I plan on asking Barbara to marry me, but.” His shrug is more like a twitch of his shoulders. “Not sure the beat cop was the right career path for me, so I’ve been looking into either P.I. or maybe EMT? I found a couple courses starting up next month and I already have my CPR certification.”

Jim hides his smirk behind a mustache and coffee mug. “Amateur sleuth, huh?”

“I know I didn’t make detective in Blüdhaven, but I’ve definitely considered it.” Something outside of the window over Jim’s shoulder gets a good stare down for a minute. “Not like Gotham’s short on those.”

He hums into his mug.

Dick reaches up to scratch the side of his neck, and if Jim didn’t know any better he’d say it’s a bout of embarrassment, though he doesn’t let it bleed into his features.

“Problem is, I don’t exactly have a stellar resume, and my work experience is shoddy at best,” he says, and Jim cannot help but think of some extracurriculars that can’t exactly be included. “And before you say anything, I know with a trust fund I’m pretty much set for life, but I don’t want that. Despite what the tabloids say I don’t want to live off Bruce Wayne’s money, and I doubt Barbara does either.”

He can’t fault the kid for that, he supposes. Wealth has never seemed to sit well with Dick Grayson, who’d much rather put money to use rather than hoard it like it’s going out of style. Still, there’s a touch of pride in the concern he has for their standing, and for all the grief he’s given Grayson over the years, there are few people in Gotham he trusts more. His daughter’s future is in good hands—her own, of course, and whatever further capacity Dick has in it.

Jim smiles and has to clear his throat, blinking a couple times because he’s proud of them, he’s happy for them, and he’s nervous yet excited himself to see what this life holds for them. He glances at the kid, young man, across the table from him, and thinks good for you, thinks he’s already seen him as a second son for years. Dick pats his pocket again, and Jim remembers his own nerves before he proposed, the constant pat down and double checking, sometimes just to look and other times to ensure it was still there. Dick pulls out his wallet, and he waves a hand.

“Nah, this one’s on me,” he says, giving Grayson a pointed look over the top of his glasses until he finally slips his wallet back into his pocket. “You can just pay me back by making my daughter happy for the rest of her life.”

Dick laughs at that, one of those ones he doesn’t think he’s heard before, something more than a chortle or noisy exhale. This one’s real and it means something, as does the smile on his face. Not for the first time, he wonders when he plans to ask her, tells himself his surprise may be faked, but his joy no less.

He watches Dick drain the rest of his coffee and then moves to stand before he pauses.

“Oh, and uh, do me a favor, sir?” he asks. “Don’t tell anybody.”

“Secret’s safe with me, son,” he says and stands to shake his head. Dick’s still beaming and he nods, and Jim turns to watch him nod to Heidi from where she’s wiping down another table.

“Seems like a good kid,” she says as she approaches, and Jim fishes a few bills out of his wallet before telling her to keep the change. “How’d the interrogation go?”

“Honestly?” he asks, tucking his wallet back in beside his badge for the time being. Dick’s head bobs past another couple before slipping out of view. “I think this one’s it.”

Jim steps out onto the street corner into the Gotham morning sun and thinks maybe this city isn’t quite as bad as it used to be. Above him, the sun shines, life carries on, and he thinks it’s about damn time. 


End file.
